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Was he remembering the pleasure we’d shared in my bed? He’d kissed me earlier; was he here for that? If he shared a bed with me, would he expect to tup me again? And, feeling the way I did now, could I even accommodate him?

If I did, in repayment for all he’d done for us today, did that make me what John had told everyone I was?

I sighed in the face of my son’s hope. “Aye, honeybun, you can take the blankets from the bed and make a cot.”

I would be cold, but ‘twas worth it to see my son’s smile.

Maardok, meanwhile, seemed to understand my thoughts. He lumbered to his feet and dropped the extra plaid around Ewan’s shoulders.

“I’ll keep ye warm, Cataline.”

We both froze at the same time, as if hearing the double meaning, and when his ruined cheek darkened in the orcish equivalent of a blush, I realized I was holding my breath. He was embarrassed to hint of tupping?

Did he believe John’s lies about me?

With a silent groan, I turned away and began to prepare for sleep as Maardok and my son built a wee pallet beside the hearth. When the orc slung his cloak around himself and slipped outside to check on the horse, I hurried to pull my gown off and crawled into the bed in my chemise. I was bloated and achy and uncomfortable as I curled onto my side, trying to give him as much room on the mattress as possible.

Mayhap I shouldn’t have bothered, because when he returned, he murmured his goodnights to my son, sat on the edge of the bed to unlace his boots, then stretched out beside me. My heart was pounding, half in anticipation, half in worry, that he might reach for me beneath the blankets.

Expectation and also dread.

Would I roll into his arms if that’s what he wanted? Would I open my body again to him?

Was I the whore John had told everyone?

Anticlimactically, when Maardok did roll onto his side to curl protectively—and warmly—around my back, he did naught more than sigh against my braid.

One of his huge hands came to rest on the side of my distended stomach, and just then the bairn shifted. I felt him suck in a breath—wonder, mayhap?—and his fingertips caressed the skin through the wool of my chemise.

Naught more, though.

“Goodnight, Cataline,” he murmured, lips inches from the top of my head.

‘Twould be so easy to sink back against him, to give him whatever I could in exchange for his comfort and protection.

Just having him here, I felt safe and warm, my baby cradled in his huge hand. Did he have any guess that I carried his child? The child which shouldn’t exist, because I’d been told humans and orcs couldn’t breed?

Nay, he wouldn’t guess that, because John would have told him I’d taken many men to my bed, as he’d told the town. Maardok would believe this babe belonged to another man who’d fucked me for coin.

I squeezed my eyes shut and listened to the silence of the snow outside.

How could I tell him the truth if he was leaving soon? How could I not? When he held me so gently and treated my son so perfectly?

Ewan.

I knew I was too obstinate to die and leave my honeybun alone, but what would become of him even with me at his side? Would I grow old in this hovel, and he inherit it after me, along with the townsfolk’s poor judgement and ill will? Without coin, without property…in my world, everything had a price, even if it appeared a gift or kindness at first.

In my world, a son was only worth his father’s name, and Richard hadn’t left Ewan much in that regard.

How could it be any different to orcs? Ewan wasn’t Maardok’s son, no matter how beautiful their friendship was…and I needed to do what was best for my son.

Be that as it may, you need to be honest.

Aye, I sighed. I did. No matter how terrifying the thought might be, or how much it would change our careful survival.

Maardok’s breath against my crown turned to the gentle snores of a good male who was at peace with his actions. A male who could be fearsome, but who was gentle and protective and demanded nothing in return.

“I am not a whore,” I finally whispered into the darkness as sleep threatened to overtake me. “You are leaving soon, and it might not matter, but I had to say it. I am not a whore.”